


Will I Ever Not Be Surprised?

by Harle_Queen



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Realization, The Blitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harle_Queen/pseuds/Harle_Queen
Summary: If you were living during a time of international distress and war, then you would probably say that the world had gone to hell in a handbasket. If you just so happened to say this phrase to a certain man-shaped being named Azrael while trying to catch a cab, he would start giggling like a mad man and wouldn't stop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 10





	Will I Ever Not Be Surprised?

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the 2020 Good Omens Secret Santa, but you can all read it too! And my first time doing Good Omens fanfiction, wow.

If you were living during a time of international distress and war, then you would probably say that the world had gone to hell in a handbasket. If you just so happened to say this phrase to a certain man-shaped being named Azrael while trying to catch a cab, he would start giggling like a mad man and wouldn't stop. Though said man-shaped being was always a fan of blasphemous phrases, considering how he was more demonic in nature then how he appeared.

Azrael supposed it was a natural response when you're from Down There: use Her name in vain, blasphemy all you want, that like. It would certainly make him more like a demon, Hastur would tell him with disdain every time he came up to Earth with an assignment for Azrael. The gluttonous demon would silently scoff back at his higher authority, knowing he was without a doubt as demonic as a demon would be. How couldn't he be? He owned a bookstore that would leave potential customers disgruntled at the owner's rudeness, he would stay overtime at a restaurant if he was truly starving for something delicious - he was sending these people down a path to Hell. Certainly. 

Which was why he was now rocking back and forth on his sore feet working out a deal with Nazis, waiting for the right moment to double cross them. These men were already going to Hell, of course, but Azrael would say he was not the kind of demon to just lay about if he could help it. Having these two realize their plans were thwarted and be left to wallow in jail for the rest of their miserable lives? By Satan, it's evil! Yes, perfectly evil. The rest of the world was going to Down There in a handbasket still, so why does Earth need two more bums? Yep, still evil. Absolutely. 

Either way, Azrael was giddy (a nice distraction from the discomfort in his feet) watching as his agent came out and surprised the suckers… until he found the gun aimed at him. 

Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea to not inform anyone about his ruse. By anyone, he was technically referring to Crowley, but the demon would never admit it to himself. As much as he enjoyed his time spent with the angel, he could not deal with the other teasing him about acting nice. Firstly, nice was a four letter word. Secondly, he was never nice. While he didn't go about doing the same kind of demonic business as his other coworkers did, he was a more subtle, mentally calculated person. Living on Earth for almost 6,000 years had its perks, including being acutely aware of what could make a human follow down a road to Above or Below. 

Perhaps that's why he was so… not attracted, Hell's no. Curious, about Crowley. He was brash, bold and spoke exactly what both of them were thinking. He was the one that initiated lots of their meetings, was the one to propose the Arrangement between them, he was just so… not angelic. Surprising, Azrael knew, but he'd known the angel now for so long that it's normal to him. 

What's also normal, but nonetheless still irritating, was how Crowley seemingly knew when the demon needed help.

With a crisp grey and red three-piece suit (is that specks of gold? Flash bastard), he strolled into the church like he built it and bellowed into the aisle, "What's the deal with the guns, eh? You're supposed to be human, so talk it out!"

"What -" Azrael cuts himself off with a grunt - stupid blessed ground, "the hell are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from getting into trouble." There's a little sneer at the end of the angel's sentence, almost like he was tired of repeating this over and over again. In a way he had, swooping in over the centuries to help out the other whenever something didn't go strictly according to plan. The demon refused to admit he's grateful though - he could've handled it just fine, especially since he loved this corporation too much. Nope, did not need Crowley.

But well, the angel was here now, so he might as well save both of them, one of the many perks of having an angel friend. Nothing like a little miracle couldn't hurt.

After a few tense moments of blaring noises and large debris clouding his senses, everything settles into ruin. He should be grateful that his feet no longer stung with every step - and he is, absolutely. Humans can rebuild churches, he of all demons should know buildings don't last for long anyways. But at least that statue in the distance survived. He's allowed to appreciate the finer things in life.

This thought has no connection to him realizing Crowley's still in front of him, suit still pristine and sharp. 

"I suppose you want me to say 'thank you'." Azrael felt a smirk tugging his lip.

"Shut up." Crowley sneered again, this time more playfully, as a smile shined annoyingly on his lips as he put his yellow-tinted sunglasses on again.

Azrael has no response to him. 

Well, not exactly right. He had lots to say, but doesn't know how to word it without the angel calling him the blessed four-letter words.

With the two of them now standing around, they might as well leave this ruckus. Only Azrael now registered the emptiness in his right hand, and his face fell and mind raced without his permission. He started rambling to himself, feeling a mixture of disappointment of being so attached to some silly books and sadness of a loss of good literature he had kept with him since their first printing. 

He also didn't immediately register a weight returning to his hand. Azrael started to come back to the present when he heard Crowley tell him, "A little angelic miracle of my own." 

The angel said something else, but the demon couldn't hear it fully as the other walked off the property. 

As Azrael suspected, his book bag and everything inside was fully intact. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore… yet…

He looked up at something, a piece of broken wood sticking out of the rubble now extremely interesting. If you asked the demon what his current thoughts were at that moment, he would glare at you and take off his navy-blue silk gloves that never seem to get dirty, quickly making you regret asking an occult being. But what the demon wouldn't tell you is that he wasn't quite sure what he was thinking about. It was a mix between one of the greatest revelations of his entire existence and a simple  _ oh.  _ He was shocked, bewildered, terrified, elated, yet all he did was feel a shy grin grace his face.

Azrael felt like a heavenly phrase best fit this situation. 

He heard a honk outside. He supposed he will pretend he's composed and get a ride home - he could... figure out all of this later. Much, much later. Besides, he was still a demon, might as well take as many angelic gestures as he can and not waste any of his own miracles. Yes - purely selfish of him.


End file.
